The Vicomtesse
by LeSlytherinPhoenix
Summary: Instead of Raoul, Renee. Instead of a boy, a girl. Instead of an unhappy ending for Erik, a happy one. What the musical may have been like if Raoul were a girl. Erik/Christine. Mostly musicalverse, some book-based ideas and concepts.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! This is my first phanfiction, so please bear with me. Constructive criticism is ALWAYS, ALWAYS, welcomed!  
Rating: T, because I'm paranoid.  
Characters: Christine, Erik, Raoul (as a girl), Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, Piangi, Meg Giry, Madame Giry, etc. etc. and some minor OCs.  
Summary: Instead of Raoul, Renee. Instead of a boy, a girl. Instead of an unhappy ending for Erik, a happy one. What the musical may have been like if Raoul were a girl. Erik/Christine. Mostly musicalverse, some book-based ideas and concepts.  
Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera, neither the book nor the musical. I also do not own anything I mention. The only things that I own are the OCs and the plot.**

_The Stage of the Opera Populaire, 1905._  
"Sold! Your number, sir? Thank you. Lot 663, then for this Opera's production of Hannibal. Do I have ten francs? Five, then? Five, I am bid. Six? Six, I see seven! Against you sir, seven? Eight? Eight. Eight once, twice, sold! To the Vicomte and Vicomtess deLavigne."  
Renee, Vicomtess deLavigne smiled at her husband. It felt good to be at the Opera Populaire again, despite of the things that had happened here.  
"Lot 664, a wooden pistol and three human skulls. Showing here. Ten francs for this?" A man in the back raised his hand. "Ten, thank you, ten, I am bid, 15, going for fifteen! Your number, sir? Thank you." The auctioneer cleared his throat before continuing. "Lot 665, a musical box in the shape of a barrel organ, attached to the figure of a monkey in Persian robes, playing the cymbals. An item discovered in the vaults of the theatre, showing here."  
Renee closed her eyes as she remembered the tune.  
"May I commence at twenty francs? Ladies and gentlemen, fifteen, then?" Renee desperately bid. She needed this. For Christine. "Thirty? Thirty. Selling at thirty francs, then. To the Vicomtess deLavigne, thank you, madam."  
"A collector's piece, indeed," she whispered. "It's exactly like you said it was, Christine, exactly..."  
"Lot 666, then. A chandelier in pieces." The auctioneer continued. "Some of you may remember the affair of the Phantom of the Opera. Alas, a mystery never explained. We have restored and rewired it with today's electricity so we may have an idea of how it may have looked. Perhaps we can frighten away the ghosts of so many years ago with a little illumination? Gentlemen!"  
Shivers ran through Renee's frame as the chandelier lit up in a spectacular display of lights. She remembered the Opera house. The fine tapestries, the gold statues of angels.  
In her mind's eye, Renee saw the Opera Populaire revert back to it's former glory...

_The Opera Populaire, 1881_  
The Prima Donna of the stage, La Carlotta, was finishing her aria in a shrill, ringing soprano, while cradling a dead head. The chorus members rushed on stage, and finished the song in a ridiculous flourish.  
"Alright, again!" Monsier Reyer cried, and the chorus members groaned in frustration. The owner of the Opera Populaire, Lefevre, came in, leading two men that looked around as if rather lost.  
"Now, gentlemen, as you can see, rehearsals are underway for our new production of 'Hannibal.' Ladies and gentlemen," he turned to face the cast, "some of you may already know and -"  
Monsieur Reyer rudely interrupted him. "We are rehearsing, if you wouldn't mind?"  
"Monsieur Reyer, our chief repetitor." Lefevre introduced him. "Rather a tyrant, I'm afraid." Motioning to the overweight Piangi, he said, "Piangi, our leading tenor. He plays opposite La Carlotta."  
Madame Giry was getting impatient as well. "Gentlemen, if you please!"  
"My apologies, Madame Giry. This is our ballet mistress."  
Andre looked over the ballet girls and motioned to Meg Giry. "Who's that girl?"  
Lefevre glanced over to where he was motioning. "Her? Meg Giry, Madame Giry's daughter. A quite promising dancer."  
Their conversation was interrupted with Madame Giry's yelling. "You! Christine Daae! You better concentrate, girl!"  
Firmin wrinkled his brow. "Daae? What a curious name."  
"Swedish." Lefevre explained.  
"Ah. Any relation at all to the violinist?"  
"His daughter, I believe. Always has her head up in the clouds, I'm afraid." He remarked.  
Practice continued, Carlotta singing her shrill high notes, Piangi messing up the pronunciation-again- and the chorus running about wildly, crashing into each other. Lefevre cleared his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen! May I have your attention, please? As you know, for some weeks there have been rumours of my imminent retirement.I can now tell you that these were all true and it is my pleasure to introduce to you the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire, Monsiuer Richard Firmin and Monsiuer Gilles Andre. This is Signora Carlotta Giudicelli, our leading soprano for five seasons now."  
They immediately began fawning over Carlotta and Piangi while the chorus rolled their eyes. At the new owner's request, Carlotta began singing her aria from Act Three, an aria which Christine knew by heart.  
"Think of me, think of me," she sang, but her shrill shrieking was interrupted by a loud thudding noise as the Prima Donna was nearly struck by a falling set piece.  
The ballet girls immediately began shrieking amongst each other, with the occasional cry of "The Phantom!" and "He has arrived!"  
Desperate to try to regain some level of control over the situation, the new owners called for the set master, Buquet, a man who was famous for trying to frighten the ballet and chorus girls with tales of the so-called "Phantom of the Opera."  
"I wasn't at my post!" he claimed. The owners exchanged unbelieving looks. "Please, Monsieur, there's no one there, and if there is, well, it must be a ghost..."  
Meg began to shriek, "He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!"  
One of the new managers -was it Andre?- turned around and snapped at the poor girl. "Good heavens, can't you show a little more courtesy?"  
The two began to try to console Carlotta, who was weeping at her apparent brush with death.  
"But, mademoiselle, these things to happen..." Andre tried to tell her, but Carlotta rudely brushed him off.  
"Si! These things do...happen!" She exclaimed, wrinkling her nose. "Well, until you stop these things from happening, this-" she motioned to her throat- "does not happen!" And with a great sob that Christine was nearly sure was fake, she strutted out of the room, Piangi following close behind.  
Lefevre bowed out of the conversation. "I-I don't think there's much more to assist you, dear gentlemen. Good luck. If you need me, I shall be in Frankfurt." He hastily made his exit as the two new owners stared dubiously behind him.  
Andre paced, muttering to himself, "Carlotta will be back, she must be..."  
Madame Giry raised her eyebrows. "You think so, messieurs? I have a message, sir, from the Opera Ghost."  
You could practically see the two owners facepalming in their mind.  
Madame Giry shrugged with an amused expression. "He merely welcomes you to his opera house and commands you to continue to leave Box Five empty for his use and reminds you that his salary is due."  
Firmin's mouth fell open. "His... salary?"  
Madame Giry explained. "Monsieur Lefevre paid him twenty thousand francs a you can afford more, with the Vicomte and Vicomtess deLavigne as your patrons."  
Andre tutted. "Madame, I had hoped to have made that announcement myself."  
"Will the Vicomte and the Vicomtess be at the performance tonight, monsieur?" Madame Giry inquired.  
Firmin quickly answered her question, hoping to find a solution to the problem at hand. "Yes, yes, of course, they will be seated in our box." Quickly he changed the topic. "Is there an understudy for this role?"  
"Of course not!" Monsieur Reyer blustered. "The production is new!"  
Meg pulled Christine towards the owners. "Christine Daae could sing it, sir!"  
"The chorus girl?" Firmin waved the suggestion off, but paused when Madame Giry intervened.  
"Let her sing for you, monsieur. She has been well taught."  
"From who?" Andre asked.  
"I-I don't know, sir?" Christine was shaking.  
"Oh, not you as well!"  
"A full house, and we have to cancel!"  
"Let her sing!" Madame Giry commanded, and the tentative strains of "Think Of Me" began.  
Christine began, nervous, but gained confidence as the song continued.

It was a packed house. Everyone was pushing towards the stage to see the beautiful new singer as she performed her great aria in front of the crowd.  
High above in the owner's box, Renee, Vicomtesse deLavigne watched the opera with a look of recognition on her face .  
"Christine? Can it be?" She clapped excitedly. "Brava! Brava!"  
"What is it, my dear?" Her husband asked.  
"An old childhood friend of mine. We simply must visit her after the show, Averell, we must!"  
Her husband chuckled at his wife's enthusiasm. "If you say so, darling."  
Christine finished the aria to thunderous applause. The rest of the opera went by without a hitch. Renee, however, wasn't paying attention, she was busy writing her long-lost friend a note. As soon as the final curtain fell, she rushed backstage and found the ballet mistress.  
"Excuse me, madam, could you please deliver this to Miss Christine Daae?"  
"Of course, Vicomtesse," the ballet instructor said, looking slightly confused, but walked off, shaking her head slightly.  
As soon as the Vicomtesse was out of sight, Madame Giry rushed to Christine, catching her and Meg is an enthusiastic gossip session about Christine's Angel of Music.  
"Meg, run along now, child." After making a shooing motioned to her child, Madame Giry turned to Christine and smiled. "You did a wonderful job today, my dear. He will be pleased." A large smile spread across the young singer's face. "I was asked to deliver this letter to you."  
Christine thanked her ballet instructor and took the letter from her outstretched hand.  
Once Madame Giry had left the room, Christine opened the letter, noting the deLaVigne seal on the envelope.  
"Little Lotte," she read. " The Angel of Music." She couldn't believe it. Could it be?

Outside, Renee was trying to convince her husband to let her visit Christine by herself, without the accompaniment of the Opera's owners. Finally, he agreed, and Renee threw her arms around him.  
Entering the room, she saw that Christine had just put the letter down on the table.  
"Christine?" She ventured cautiously into the room. As Christine turned around to face her, she rushed forward and hugged her old friend. "Oh, Little Lotte, how I missed you! Wait, you remember me, right?"  
Christine grinned. "Of course I remember you! I still have that scarf, you know!"  
"Oh yes," Renee smiled as well, remembering times long ago. "That's good. After all, I was fourteen and soaked to the skin. I do believe my governess thought me insane."  
"And the nights in front of the fireplace-" Christine said excitedly.  
"With your father playing the violin as we played with our dolls!" Renee interrupted. "How could I ever forget?"  
The two girls grinned at each other, happy to be in the presence of each other again. They hadn't changed much, of course. "So, how have you been, Renee?"  
"Oh, well, I got married, you see."  
Christine giggled. "Married? Oh, so you are now a Vicomtesse? Why are you talking to a poor little opera singer such as myself?"  
"Poor?" Renee lightly slapped Christine's arm. "You were marvelous! How did you learn to sing like that? You were perfect!"  
"See, I have this teacher."  
"Oh, really? Who?" Renee asked, her face full of childish curiosity.  
"I-I don't really know, actually, remember how father always said he'd send an Angel of Music to me?"  
"Of course!"  
"Well, see, he calls himself the Angel of Music, he's a magnificent teacher, and such a wondrous inspiration-" Christine was interrupted by a knock on her door.  
"Ladies?" It was Renee's husband, Averell. "It's quite late, don't you think-"  
"Oh, I do apologize!" Christine cried, jumping up from her chair. "I didn't realize how dreadfully late it was."  
"Oh, it's quite alright." Renee smiled, simply happy to have found her childhood friend again. "Why don't you come to dinner with us? We'll treat you-we know this great little place!"  
Christine pondered a moment. "Can you give me a moment? The Angel of Music is very strict." She didn't want to risk insulting her Angel.  
"Of course," Renee said. She left the room to get her coat and hat.  
"Angel?" Christine softly called out to the room.  
Erik, who had been hiding behind the mirror the entire time, was suprised that Christine had directly spoken to him. But he was pleased. Christine had performed wonderfully and had truly made him proud, and the girl, the Vicomtesse, what was her name again? Oh, yes, Renee, wasn't a problem for him or his plans. "Christine! The girl poses no problem to me. You may go. But remember, you must always return to me."  
"Of course, Angel!" Christine laughed, happy that her Angel wasn't jealous. "Thank you!" And grabbing her coat, she rushed to the door, locked it, and left to find Renee.

Dinner was a pleasant affair, eaten at a lovely little cafe at the corner of the street. Renee and Christine spent what seemed like hours discussing their time together when they were children, and they easily recovered the ease of conversation that they possessed when they were young.  
Averell was a pleasant man, mild-mannered and rather gentle. He was a businessman, born into wealth, which when added to Renee's inherited wealth, basically meant the young couple was swimming in money.  
However, it soon became late, and Christine wished to get back to the Opera house before it became too late. So bidding Renee and Averell goodbye, with the promise to meet again soon, she rushed back into the Opera, where she realized she had left her necklace in La Carlotta's dressing room.  
No matter, she thought, as she had the key. Briefly she wondered if her Angel was there, even at this time.  
Pushing the door open, she could see nothing, nor hear anything. Perhaps her Angel was sleeping. But as soon as she lit the lamp, a resounding voice echoed in the small room.  
"Christine."  
The singer jumped slightly, but relaxed when she realized it was only her Angel. "Oh, Angel, you frightened me."  
"I do apologize, dear one. But I see that you have returned. It is well."  
"Angel?" Christine's voice was soft. Erik did not respond. She retrieved her necklace from the dresser and turned to go, pausing in the doorframe. "Angel, I hear you, I know you, yet I cannot see you. Angel, please show yourself!"  
Erik thought a moment, then went with his instinct. "Dear child, you shall soon know me. I swear, you will know why I hide, why I am in the shadows. Turn your face to the mirror, I am there, inside!"  
Christine turned slowly to the mirror, and gasped as she saw a face there. The mirror swung open, as if a door-Christine reasoned it probably was- and there was her Angel of Music, half of his angelic face covered by a white, porcelain mask. When he spoke, it was not like before. It was not a resonating sound, yet it did not sound any less powerful or angelic. It was a soft whisper.  
"I am your Angel of Music...come to your Angel of Music..."  
And with those words, her Angel enveloped her in his velvet cape and led her through the mirror into his world.

**First chapter of my first phanfiction! I'm so proud of myself! *sniff* I'd like to note that this IS NOT RAOUL. It is Raoul how he may have turned out as a girl, equally enthusiastic, equally happy, but just not a romantic rival. Anyway, do you like it? I typed literally about half of this on my phone, my thumb is NUMB, literally. So if you spot any errors, or wish to correct me or offer any constructive criticism, it would be greatly appreciated.**  
**Also, if you want to help me with the story, I'd really appreciate it. You can just message me or something. Thanks. **


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you so much, my reviewer(s). I really appreciate it. Also, thanks to the subscribers/favorites. You guys are my inspiration, my muses, my Angel of Writings, if that made any sense whatsoever.  
Rating: T, because I'm paranoid.  
Characters: Christine, Erik, Raoul (as a girl), Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, Piangi, Meg Giry, Madame Giry, etc. etc. and some minor OCs.  
Summary: Instead of Raoul, Renee. Instead of a boy, a girl. Instead of an unhappy ending for Erik, a happy one. What the musical may have been like if Raoul were a girl. Erik/Christine. Mostly musicalverse, some book-based ideas and concepts.  
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, neither versions. I also do not own any of the lyrics used in this chapter, or in this entire phic.  
****_Italics= Lyrics (Not lyrics as in me using lyrics as text, but literal lyrics in the story. _**  


The Phantom guided Christine through the underground Labyrinth. Christine stared in rapt wonder of the dark tunnels and winding, sloping hallways. Finally, they reached an underground lake, with lanterns lighting the cavern, causing light to appear eerily green.  
The Phantom helped Christine into a boat. She looked around her in amazement. Softly, the Phantom became to sing under his breath.  
_"Sing once again with me,_  
_our strange duet ..._  
_My power over you_  
_grows stronger yet ..._  
_And though you turn from me,_  
_to glance behind,_  
_the Phantom of the Opera is there_  
_-inside your mind ..."_ Christine smiled at the unknown melody. It was beautiful, hauntingly so. The song continued, but it was too quiet for Christine to understand the words. Suddenly, her Angel's song grew louder, until the sound was echoing off the walls.  
_"He's there, the Phantom of the Opera..._  
_Beware, the Phantom of the Opera..."_ The song grew to a magnificent crescendo until her Angel suddenly stopped and looked at Christine.  
"Sing, my Angel of Music!" He commanded her. Christine obliged, while her Angel continued his powerful song.  
Finally, they arrived at the other end of the lake.  
Christine attempted to steady herself as she climbed out of the boat. The Phantom noticed she was having some difficulty and rushed over to help her. Christine smiled softly. "Thank you, Angel." Christine followed him to a magnificent room with a glorious organ. She gasped as she looked around, taking in the fine, Persian tapestries and intricate gold carvings. "Angel, is this your home?" She asked, not willing to believe it. It fit her Angel perfectly, it was so him, mysterious yet entrancing, elegant yet slightly intimidating.  
"Yes, my dear, yes it is." Her Angel watched, slightly amused. "This is my true home, among my music." Christine smiled and ran her fingers along the many instruments as if caressing them.  
"Angel?" She asked after a while, turning to face him.  
"Yes?"  
"Could you sing to me?"  
"Of course, my Angel, of course."  
He began a soft ballad, accompanying himself on the song was dark, yet like a lullaby, and Christine found herself getting rather tired. She yawned and rubbed her eyes.  
_"Night-time sharpens,_  
_ heightens each sensation_  
_Darkness stirs and wakes imagination_  
_Silently the senses abandon their defenses…_  
_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendour .._  
_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender ..._  
_Turn your face away from the garish light of day,_  
_turn your thoughts away_  
_from cold, unfeeling light_  
_and listen to the music of the night ..."_  
By the end of the verse, Christine had already fallen onto the sofa that Erik had standing in his music room. He rushed over, afraid she had fainted, but upon closer inspection, Erik realized she had simply fallen asleep. Carrying her to his guest bedroom, he whispered the final words of his song to her.  
_"You alone can make my song take flight….._  
_Help me make the Music of the Night…"_  
Covering her with blankets, Erik gazed upon her sleeping form, so much like an Angel's. Her brown curls were falling peacefully onto her shoulders, spilling onto the pillows, her big brown eyes shut, a faint smile on her lips. Yes, she was truly his Angel of Music.

When Christine awoke, Erik was pacing around madly in his home. "Angel? Is everything alright?" Christine asked, worried she did something wrong.  
As soon as Erik realized Christine was awake, he hurried to her. "Yes, my dear, everything is quite alright. I was simply…worried that those fools-" he nearly spat the word- "that run my theater will be missing you."  
"Oh, don't fret, Angel, they will not..."  
"Alas, dear one. You are now the prima donna. I am afraid they will."

Meanwhile, Andre and Firmin were having a lovely conversation in their office.  
Firmin was reading a newspaper that reviewed last night's performance to Andre. "'Mystery after gala night,'" he read,"' Mystery of soprano's flight!'" 'Mystified,' baffled Surete say, 'We are mystified - we suspect foul play!'" He turned to his business partner. "Bad news on soprano scene -first Carlotta, now Christine! Ah, but still at least the seats get sold -gossip's worth its weight in gold ..." And turning back to the paper, he read: "'Diva tenders resignation! Cover does a moonlight flit after being seen with the Vicomte and Vicomtess de LaVigne…!' Half your cast disappears, but the crowd still cheers! Opera!" He cried, smacking his face with his hand. "To hell with Gluck and Handel -have a scandal and you're sure to have a hit!" He laughed.  
Andre, however, was less happy about the scandal. "Damnable! Will they all walk out? This is damnable!"Firmin rushed to his partner, hoping to quiet him. "Andre, please don't shout ...It's publicity! And the take is vast! Free publicity!" He tried to convince Andre it was agood thing. "But we have no cast ..." Andre argued. Firmin pointed at the line already forming at the ticket booth."But Andre, have you seen the queue? Oh, it seems you've got one too." He said wryly, pointing at the letter on Andre's desk.  
Andre picked the letter up and hastily slit the envelope, reading it out loud. "'Dear Andre, what a charming gala! Christine enjoyed a great success! We were hardly bereft when Carlotta left -otherwise, the chorus was entrancing, but the dancing was a lamentable mess!'"

Firmin also began to read his letter aloud. "'Dear Firmin, just a quick reminder: my salary has not been paid. Send it care of the ghost, by return of post -P.T.O.: No one likes a debtor, so it's better if my orders are obeyed!'"  
The two managers looked at each other. "Who would have the gall to send this?" Andre asked.  
"Perhaps someone with a puerile brain." Firmin laughed slightly, while Andre looked peeved.  
"Look!" Andre shouted. "These are both signed O.G.!"  
"Who the hell is he?" Firmin interrupted rudely.  
"Well I suppose the Opera Ghost-" Andre began, but Firmin interrupted him yet again.  
"It's really not amusing. Look at him, he's abusing his position, he wants money…."  
"Let's just say that he is quite insane!" Andre claimed.  
At that moment, the Vicomte and Vicomtesse de LaVigne walked in, clearly irritated. "Where is she?" The Vicomtesse asked, worried.  
"Carlotta?" Andre looked confused.  
"No, of course not!" Renee blustered. "Miss Daae!"  
"How would we know?"  
"I want an answer! I'm guessing that you sent us this note?" And brandishing yet another note in front of the owners, she read: "Miss Daae is quite safe. The Angel of Music has her under his wing. She shall be returned to you shortly. Do not attempt to see her before she returns."  
"What? Of course not!" Firmin seemed offended at the very idea.  
Carlotta interrupted their conversation by strutting into the office with her usual drama. "Where are they?" She spat, clearly angry.  
"Ah, welcome back!" Andre seemed oblivious to her anger.  
"Your precious patrons," Carlotta seethed.  
"Where are they?" Piangi backed Carlotta.  
"What is it now?" Averell turned, obviously peeved.  
"I got your letter," Carlotta sniffed. "A letter that I rather resent."  
"Well, did you send it?" Firmin inquired.  
Averell rolled his eyes. "Of course not!"  
"You didn't send it?" Carlotta seemed dubious.  
"Of course not!" Renee nearly screeched.  
"You dare to tell me that this is NOT the letter you sent?"  
"What is it, then?" Renee grew impatient. This was getting them nowhere. She grabbed the piece of paper from Carlotta's hands. "Your days at the Opera Populaire are numbered. Christine Daae will be singing on your behalf tonight. Be prepared for a great misfortune, should you attempt to take her place." Renee shrugged. "I don't know what you think, you evil woman, but it was not me!"  
Andre and Firmin looked at each other, exhausted. "These are far too many notes for my taste." Andre said.  
"Oh, yes, and all of them about….Christine." He pronounced the name as if it were a curse. "Why, the only thing we've heard since we came is Miss Daae's name!"  
To further add to the confusion, Madame Giry walked into the room, closely followed by a worried Meg. "Miss Daae will have returned shortly." Madame Giry announced. However, I have a note. From the Opera Ghost."  
"Not another note!" Andre was practically facepalming.  
"Read it, read it!" Renee begged the dance teacher.  
"Very well. 'Gentlemen, I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature, detailing how my theatre is to be run. You have not followed my instructions. I shall give you one last chance. Christine Daae will have returned to you, and I am anxious her career should progress. In the new production of "Il Muto", you will therefore cast Carlotta as the Pageboy, and put Miss Daae in the role of the Countess.  
'The role which Miss Daae plays calls for charm and appeal. The role of the Pageboy is silent – which makes my casting, in a word, ideal. I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in Box Five, which will be kept open for me. Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur ...'" Madame Giry let the threat fade. :"'... I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant, O.G.'"  
"Oh, Christine, Christine..." Meg said, wondering what her friend at gotten herself into now.  
"Well, there's really not much you can do there, is there?" Renee remarked.  
The owners looked at each other. "What do you mean, Vicomtesse?"  
"Well, if we want to avoid this-" she checked the note –"disaster beyond our imagination, I suggest we simply do what he tells us to."  
La Carlotta was outraged. "This cannot happen! She-Christine- she doesn't have the voice!"  
"You listen to me now, La Carlotta!" Everyone was stunned to see the usually mild-mannered Averell nearly shout. "Miss Daae certainly does have the voice, and I suggest you better get used to the idea of being in the chorus before I decide to remove from the Opera house entirely! Now, we will do what this Opera Ghost tells us to do, no matter what, and especially when it makes sense!"  
"But, Monsieur! I am ze prima donna!" Carlotta stuck her nose up haughtily.  
"Christine is singing." Averell sneered. "That is the end of it."  
He held his hand up at further protest from Carlotta and Piangi, muttering to himself. Offended, Carlotta strutted out of the office and shut up, Piangi following closely. Andre and Firmin exchanged glances and shrugged, while Renee whispered to her husband: "Thank you, Averell." Averell smiled lightly and kissed the top of her head.

**Thank you so much for all of your kind reviews. Like last chapter, much of this was written on my phone, a rather hard to type with smart phone that is a little crazy, if I may say so myself, so please, feel free to correct any grammar, spelling, or consistency mistakes that I may or may not have made. Thank you. Another note- If you're wondering why a lot didn't happen, it's because nothing happens the same way twice if the exact same circumstances didn't happen before it. Like, Christine wasn't as tired, the Phantom wasn't angry…etc. etc.**  
**Love you :)  
****every time you review, Phantom of the Opera plays for one more performance!  
(Not really, but you get virtual cookies!)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks for all of the supermegafoxyawesomeHOT reviews, favorites, and alerts! I love you guys! Sorry, I'm hyper xD...  
Rating: T, because I'm paranoid.  
Characters: Christine, Erik, Raoul (as a girl), Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, Piangi, Meg Giry, Madame Giry, etc. etc. and some minor OCs.  
Summary: Instead of Raoul, Renee. Instead of a boy, a girl. Instead of an unhappy ending for Erik, a happy one. What the musical may have been like if Raoul were a girl. Erik/Christine. Mostly musical verse, some book-based ideas and concepts.  
Disclaimer: Me no own Le Phantom. If I did, I rent out the Royal Albert Hall and have Ramin Karimloo and Sierra Boggess act out all of the E/C in the entire musical. I don't own them either. I don't own anything. If I did, I'd be older, a guy, and a musical genius. I'm a fourteen year old girl who is hardly intelligent. Hell, I don't even own my computer. How sad is that?  
Penelope Zozes: Thank you for your review. Sadly, you have disabled your PM feature, but you get a virtual cookie. Thanks for the compliment!  
**_**Italics= Lyrics (Not lyrics as in me using lyrics as text, but literal lyrics in the story.) **_  
_**  
**_Christine followed the Phantom back to the world above.  
Truth be told, she didn't even want to go back. Her Angel paddled silently across the lake, an indescribable feeling etched into his face. He did not sing this time, simply looked at her. He led her through the winding, sloping, hallways that led to La Carlotta's dressing room, and without a word, opened the mirror and helped her through.  
Christine lightly stepped through and turned around, the light from above catching her hair, making it seem nearly red-gold. "Thank you, Angel," she whispered softly.  
"Please, dear one," her Angel replied, "call me Erik."  
And with those words and a slight smile despite of himself, he closed the mirror gently, leaving Christine alone with her thoughts, staring at the mirror where her Angel, no Erik, had vanished, humming the tune of the music box gently.  
Her thoughts were interrupted by Meg knocking frantically. "Christine, open this door!"  
Christine started, surprised. As she realized it was only Meg, she sighed. "Yes, Meg, I'm coming." She stood up and unlocked the door, opening it to a very excited looking Meg.  
"Christine!" She cried, running a hand through her already mussed curls. "Christine, you must see the new owners at once!"  
"But why?" Christine asked, confused.  
Meg smiled mischeviously. "You'll see."

**(A/N Carlotta and Piangi were called into the owner's office once more for another discussion, this time with Christine. Just to clarify.)** Christine caught her breath at the owner's door and knocked.  
"Come in," she heard from inside, and she stepped over the door frame into the office.  
"Hello?" She said nervously as she realized that not only the owners were there, but also Carlotta, Piangi, Renee and Averell.  
"Christine." Andre motioned to an empty chair. "Please, sit."  
Christine obliged.  
"Now, we have received a letter from the Opera Ghost, detailing that you are to be playing the Countess in IlMuto, while Carlotta will be playing the pageboy."  
Christine's mouth widened in genuine shock. "I-I knew nothing of this, monsieur."  
Carlotta tutted. "Christine, why, it's all a ploy to help Christine!" Christine's eyes narrowed. "I know who wrote this," Carlotta continued. "The Vicomtesse, her new best friend," the diva spat.  
"Can you believe this?" Renee shook her head, appalled at Carlotta's impoliteness.  
"Signora!" Firmin tried to calm Carlotta down. "Signora! You are a star and always will be!"  
"This is a joke!" Piangi desperately waved his hands through the air.  
"Signor!"  
"I am unwanted!" Carlotta cried with an over exaggerated sniff.  
"This changes nothing!" Firmin smacked his hand onto the desk. "We must take his orders!"  
"But, Signora," Andre desperately tried to calm Carlotta. "You will always be a star! But, madam, for the sake of the Opera house-" he looked at Firmin, who nodded his approval. "For the last time, Carlotta will be playing the pageboy. Miss Daae will be playing the lead!"  
"Well then," Piangi sniffed. "You don't deserve her!"  
"You're only trying to ruin my career, little toad!" Carlotta hissed at poor Christine, who only looked in confusion at the mayhem.  
Renee rolled her eyes. "Oh, Christine, you know you deserve it!" Christine smiled gratefully at her friend.  
"This is uncalled for! This is unheard of!" Carlotta and Piangi continued their rant, still trying to convince the owners to give Carlotta the part, even after Averell's harsh words from before.  
"I will not do it!" Carlotta cried. "I refuse to play ze pageboy while that little toad is playing my part!"  
"But Carlotta!" Andre stared, shocked, at the former prima donna. "You must!"  
"Signora, please...for us..." Firmin pleaded.  
"You go too far! To take orders from zis...Opera Ghost! It is ridiculous!" Carlotta said, tossing her hair arrogantly.  
"We need you!" Firmin was nearly begging on his knees. Who knew if this "Opera Ghost" even was going to ask for Christine in the future. They needed their Prima Donna. There would be too many questions, too much scandal. And even Andre didn't like that much scandal.  
"You would rather have your precious little Christine playing my part!" Carlotta shrieked. Christine was backed up against the back of her chair, trying to make herself seem like she wasn't there.  
"But Signora...you will be the Prima Donna once more!"  
"You don't deserve me!" Carlotta claimed haughtily.  
"But...you will be the Prima Donna soon again!" Andre put a hand on her shoulder.  
"Think of the public on their knees!" Firmin threw in.  
"Think of how they all adore you!" Andre made a grand sweeping gesture.  
"For one performance, you cannot be the star, but what about the others?"  
"Think of your muse, and the queues in the theatre!"  
"How can you abandon all of this for one performance?"  
Carlotta evaluated her choices. She could leave the Opera, perhaps never to sing again and have to endure countless questions about where she went, or she could suck it up and play a minor role in one production, then be back in the spotlight, where she belonged.  
"Fine." Andre and Firmin sighed in relief. "I will sing zis...pageboy. And you." She turned to Christine. "You will better stay out of my way, toad!" And with those words, she stood up and strut out of the office again.  
"Well, that seemed to go well, didn't it?" Andre blurted out awkwardly, staring at Christine and Renee, who were giggling.

Banquet pulled his head back from his place high above the stage. He had seen the Phantom leave the Opera house through some hidden door or lever, coming back from, he presumed, delivering yet more letter. He smiled slightly. He could really scare the chorus girls this time.  
"Like yellow parchment is his skin ...A great black hole serves as the nose that never grew ...You must be always on your guard ...Or he will catch you with his magical lasso ... !" Buquet was detailing a highly fictionalized version of the Phantom's gruesome visage. The chorus girls screamed among themselves, scattering and shielding their ears. Buquet's storytelling was interrupted by a staff hitting the ground. He looked to the side to see Madame Giry, the ballet mistress, watching his every move with a disapproving look in her eyes.  
"Those who speak of what they know, find too late that prudent silence is wise." Buquet rolled his eyes. "Joseph Buquet, hold your tongue. He will burn you with the heat of his eyes!" Madame Giry desperately tried to make him know, to understand- but Buquet seemed to wave her words of warning off, but he cast an uncertain look to the rafters above and quickly shut up. The chorus girls scattered, casting uncertain and worried glances at the brown ceiling above, as if wondering what horrors lay beyond-or below- it.

Averell and Renee, Vicomte and Vicomtesse de LaVigne, arrived at the Opera Populaire for the newest opera, seeking out the owners. "Monsieurs!" Averell cried after finding the owners in the pushing crowd.  
"Ah, Vicomte and Vicomtesse de LaVigne!" Andre clapped his hands together, looking like a ridiculous seal.  
"Yes." Renee curtsied slightly.  
Averell coughed slightly. "Gentlemen...if you would take your seats with us? There appear to be no seats left, other than Box Five, of course."  
Andre seemed quite puzzled. "Are you sure that's wise, Vicomte? You could simply take Box Five..." he trailed off slightly.  
Firmin cast a harsh, silencing look at his partner and said hastily, "Yes, of course, Vicomte. Vicomtesse. We have more than enough places in our box for tonight."  
Renee smirked, glad to see that the owners were playing along with the so-called Opera Ghost's idea.  
The small group made their way to the owner's box, surveying the crowd from above. Renee was pleased to note that Box Five was empty. She didn't want her friend, her Little Lotte, to have any trouble.

The curtain opened.  
The people applauded.  
The first scene.  
The second scene.  
Box Five was empty. Christine did not come onstage.  
And finally, Christine entered the stage. Her makeup was horribly overdone. Her dress was weighing her down, it looked heavy and warm. Renee couldn't help but pity her.  
The cast pranced across the stage, singing in exaggerated costumes with ridiculous movements.  
_"They say that this youth has set my Lady's heart aflame!"_ A group of giggling gossipers were gathered in a group, their faces painted with stark white makeup, dolled up in elizabethan costumes.  
_"His Lordship sure would die of shock!"_ One sang, putting his hands on his waist in an exaggerated display of anger.  
_"His Lordship is a laughing-stock!"_  
_"Should he suspect her, God protect her!"_  
_"Shame! Shame! Shame!"_ They sang, wagging their fingers at the audience.  
_"This faithless lady's bound for Hades! Shame! Shame! Shame!"_  
Christine, dressed up in the Countess' dress, sang to Carlotta. _"Serafimo - your disguise is perfect. Who can this be?"_  
The man playing Donattilo- her husband- answered her._ "Gentle wife, admit your loving husband. My love - I am called to England on affairs of State,and must leave you with your new maid. Though I'd gladly take the maid with me."_  
"The old fool's leaving!" Christine said slightly giggling aside to Carlotta, who grimaced.  
_"I suspect my young bride is untrue to me. I shall not leave, but shall hide over there to observe her! Addio!"_ He pretended to hide.  
Erik rushed to his box, determined not to miss Christine's aria. He crossed the stage silently, making sure Buquet, that meddling fool did not see him. He resisted the urge to Punjab him.  
Back on the stage, Christine waved to her "husband," called "Addio!" then turned to Carlotta, who grudgingly played the role. _"Serafimo! Away with this pretense!_" Carlotta complied, but with an utterly disapproving look in her eyes. Renee had to hide a snicker as she saw how overweight Carlotta looked in her skin-tight costume.  
She had been incredibly nasty to Christine during rehearsals, finding every single mistake with her singing, dancing, or acting, and the rest of the time detailing how Christine was a terrible actress and had stolen what was rightfully hers, namely the part. Christine had ignored it, as well as she could, but it was hard to ignore the well-meaning clucks of sympathy from Madame Giry, Meg, and Renee. Nevertheless, Christine was determined to make this a great performance, even if she had to pretend to like Carlotta. It was for the sake of her Angel, for Erik. And for her music, of course.  
_"You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence!"_ Christine herself did not enjoy pretending to kiss Carlotta, but for art's sake, she ignored her disgust. _ "Poor fool, he makes me laugh!" _She pretended to laugh heartily, hitting every note. _"Time I tried to get a better better half! Poor fool, he doesn't know! If he knew, the fool, he never would have gone!"_ Christine continued her operatic notes and trills, earning herself several amazed looks from the audience. She smiled to herself. How she loved being onstage, singing and acting in front of an adoring crowd that loved her, at least when she did it right. And she would do it right. At least with her Angel teaching her.  
High in Box Five, Erik smiled down at the stage. Christine was performing wonderfully. Those lame owners had obeyed his every order. He was pleased. The Opera continued without a hitch. Now came the time for Christine's big aria. He leaned forward in his seat, awaiting her wonderful voice filling the Opera house. She was finally in the spotlight, as she deserved it.  
Erik eyes flicked up onto the level before the ceiling of the stage, where the props and sets were kept. He could see the set master standing there on the edge of the bridge, surveying the performance. Buquet looked up, his mouth widening in surprise as he glimpsed Erik. He took a surprised step back.  
Christine's final operatic scales were interrupted by the sound of Joseph Buquet's corpse hitting the stage. ****

I'm sorry for the errors, but I'm tired, and most of this was written on my phone. So anyways, please review. It really means a lot to me when you do, so I'm not going to stoop to the level of begging, but I will politely ask you to review.  
So, I had a bit of trouble with this chapter, and I hope it's okay =)  
Thank you for reading!  
Love,  
Panda.  
(Reviewers get a free Erik plushie! Not really, but I get a silly grin on my face and YOU get virtual cookies!) 


	4. Chapter 4

******To my dearest darlingest Momsy and Popsicle- I mean readers. Did anyone read the last chapter? :)  
This chapter is ridiculously fluffy.  
Rating: T, because I'm paranoid.  
Characters: Christine, Erik, Raoul (as a girl), Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, Piangi, Meg Giry, Madame Giry, etc. etc. and some minor OCs.  
Summary: Instead of Raoul, Renee. Instead of a boy, a girl. Instead of an unhappy ending for Erik, a happy one. What the musical may have been like if Raoul were a girl. Erik/Christine. Mostly musical verse, some book-based ideas and concepts.  
Disclaimer: Do you really think that if I owned the Phantom of the Opera, Christine would have ended up with Raoul? Can I say "fop" enough? Code for: I don't own anything. The only thing I own is this pack of tic tacs. Wait, my sister owns that. Too bad *downs tic tacs*  
Penelope Zozes: Yay, lemon bars! I will eat them after I'm done with my tic tacs. Here's your cookie.  
Anonymous Reviewer That Threatened To Kill Me: I'm happy you like the story so much, however, if you kill me, you'll never know what happens! *dramatic chipmunk***

Meg Giry was the first to scream, a heart-wrenching, bloodcurdling scream.  
The girls that were standing near where the body had landed were gagging and swooning.  
It only took a moment for cries of "It's the Phantom!"  
"The Ghost has arrived!"  
"He's here- the Phantom of the Opera!" to arise, while the audience interrupted into blind, insane panic.  
Carlotta shoved Christine and glared at her. "It's all your fault! You lying little toad! You murderous witch!" Her cursing became louder and more frenzied, and soon drifted off into Spanish.  
But Christine didn't respond. She didn't glance at Carlotta. She wasn't even listening. Instead, hot tears streamed down her cheeks.  
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Andre and Firmin were desperately trying to calm the screeching crowd. "Please, remain in your seats! It was an accident! Merely an accident!" Andre turned to Christine.  
"Miss Daae -"  
But Christine could take no more. She turned on her heel and ran offstage.

Renee stared in pure, blind, shock at the stage, then promptly fainted into Averell's arms.  
"Good God, " he said to himself. "Perhaps we should be going home now..." and mumbling to himself about the events of the evening, he half dragged, half carried his swooning wife to the entrance hall of the Opera Populaire, where he quickly hailed a carriage and guided her to it, hoping to God that nothing bad would come of this night.

The Phantom watched the scene of confusion from Box Five, feeling an unfamiliar stab of emotion in his gut. It took him a moment to name the feeling. What was it? Ah, yes, the Phantom thought, pained. Guilt.  
He put his face in his hands, the new emotion overtaking him. Was it his fault? Was he to blame for this misfortune, for the possible shattering of his beloved Christine's opera career? And what of the man? Did he have family, a wife, children even? Had Erik inadvertently caused his children to suffer poverty, perhaps worse? He looked upon the stage again and saw that Christine had fled. Erik began to panic, quietly so. Where had she gone? She could get seriously injured by the mass of stampeding people everywhere.  
His mind flying over common hiding places of hers, he suddenly realized where she was probably hiding.  
With a swish of his cape, he departed Box Five and left for the roof of the Opera Populaire.

He heard sobbing even before he opened the heavy wooden door that he knew led to the starry night above. "Christine?" He said gently as he opened the door.  
"Go away!" Erik heard the angelic voice of his Angel.  
"Christine..." He stepped out onto the rooftop, seeing Christine curled into a little ball. "Why have you come up here? You must return!"  
"Don't make me go back there!" She spun herself around and glared at him. "You'll kill me!"  
Erik felt his heart break. "Christine...don't say that...you know I won't..."  
"Your eyes will find me there! And if you have to kill a thousand men!" Christine's eyes were filled with tears. "You will kill, and kill, and kill again!" She broke down, still sobbing. "My God what kind of man are you, who hunts to kill! I won't escape from you!"  
"I am but the voice you hear-"  
"I never will!" Christine's eyes were wide and roamed around the roof, looking for an escape. "And in your labyrinth where night is blind -the Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind! You-" she pointed with a trembling finger at her Angel- "are the Phantom of the Opera!"  
"I did not kill him!" The Phantom roared. Christine scooted back, shocked.  
"You are a monster, nothing more than a creature of the night..."  
"You make assumptions of me."  
"I've been there, I've been there, to your world of darkness, of unending night...I've seen your world, where mere daylight dissolves into darkness!" Christine spat at her teacher. "But your voice..your organ...it filled my spirit with such a sweet, strange sound." Christine tried to make reason of her situation, the two conflicting people- the Phantom of the Opera and her Angel.  
"In that night, there was music in my mind. My soul began to soar, and-and, I heard music like I've never heard before. And in your eyes- all the sadness of the world. Your pleading eyes that both adored and threatened..." her voice trailed off, yet she remembered Erik's "crime." "But I hear the choir girls screaming. I saw the body fall."  
"Yet, I was sitting in my box." Christine hiccuped slightly, trying to stop her tears. "Watching you perform."  
Christine's jumbled mind hastily added the pieces together. It made no sense that he had done the terrible crime that he had been unfairly accused of by the judging eyes of the chorus girls, it couldn't have been, not her Erik, her Angel of Music...  
"But I am not innocent."  
Christine stared in pure shock at him. "I startled him. He tripped. It's my fault." Erik sat down next to her and buried his masked face in his hands.  
"Angel..." Christine said, but he did not respond. She tried again. "Erik..." this time, he responded, peering up at her through his mask. "It's not your fault..I'm sure it's not."  
"But Christine, it is! Look at me, a monster!"  
"Erik...Angel...you're not a monster..." Christine tried to comfort him. "Now...No more talk of darkness." She tried to put on a brave smile. "Forget these wide-eyed fears. I'm here, nothing can harm you -my words will warm and calm you."  
Erik looked up, scarcely believing the words that left her mouth. "Let me be your freedom, let the stars and the moon dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you. Say you love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of melodies. Say you need me with you, now and always ...promise me that all you say is true -that's all I ask of you." Erik said.  
"You gave me your music ...Made my song take wing ...and now, how you've repaid me, to love and to protect me..." Christine whispered, turning away from Erik. "All I want is music- a world with no more light, and you, always beside me, helping me to find me ..."  
"Always," Erik whispered, and he stood, spreading his arms wide as he surveyed the roof. "Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime ..." He plead, nearly mad. "Let me lead you from your solitude ...Say you need me with you here, beside you ...anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that's all I ask of you!"  
Christine stared at her Angel, entranced. She stood up and took a tentative step forward. "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime, say the word and I will follow you." She promised, her large brown eyes forgiving.  
"Share each night with me, each note, each song..."  
"Say you love me..." Christine's eyes filled with unshed tears, out of happiness or some unknown sorrow, she could not tell.  
"You know I do." Erik murmured. "Love me- that's all I ask of you."  
Christine leaned into Erik's arms. "Anywhere you go, let me go too..."  
But Erik simply responded, "Love me...that's all I ask of you..."  
Christine turned to face the Phantom so that their noses were nearly touching. He held his breath, not willing to believe what was happening.  
Christine smiled slightly, and leaned up nearly kissing him.  
Erik barely registered his mask being torn off his face. Yet as soon as he felt the cold night air nearly caress his tortured flesh, his stomach dropped as he realized what Christine had done.  
Christine took a scared step back, witnessing his horrific features, her mind in shock. His eye drooped, and his flesh looked as if he were badly burned, with disturbing scars and crevasses all around his marked face-  
Erik took only a moment to recover from his initial shock, a mask of rage covering his now exposed face.  
"Damn you!" He grasped Christine by the wrists and threw her to the floor. "Damn you!" He repeated. "You little prying Pandora!" He seethed, glaring at Christine. "You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see?" He motioned to his face, Christine's eyes wide with shock. "Curse you! You little lying Delilah! You little viper! Now you will not ever love me!" He realized he had just stated his worst fear aloud. "Damn you!" He wailed. "Curse you!"  
As he realized that the sight of his gruesome visage had scarred her, his voice took on a softer tone, yet no less foreboding. "Stranger than you dreamt it." He said through his teeth, cursing his bad luck. "Can you even dare to look? Or bear to think of me? This loathsome gargoyle who burns in hell, but secretly, yearns for heaven..." Only if heaven had Angels as lovely as the figure who sat in front of him, he thought bitterly- "Secretly, secretly ..." He held his hand out to Christine, who looked at if as if a bomb. "But, Christine, love has turned to fear," His voice grew softer still, until he was merely whispering his blind hopes of forgiveness. "You'll learn to see, to find the man behind the monster, this repulsive carcass of a face ..." he pointed at his face. "Who seems a beast, but secretly, dreams of beauty, secretly, secretly ..." Beauty. That was what he was seeking. Wasn't that why he had sought out Christine, for her beauty in voice, in mind, in spirit? "Oh, Christine ..." a single tear trickled down his deformed cheek, carving out a small path in his worn features.  
"Christine..please..." Erik could see tears glistening in his beloved's cheek, before she turned away. "Christine..." he pleaded, but he realized she was merely giving him back his mask.  
He took it, studying the fine porcelain to make sure there were no cracks. Once he was satisfied with the results of his quick inspection, he smoothed his wig over and attached the mask again, making sure that his- his mind stumbled over the thought- deformity was covered.  
Christine instantly felt more at ease when the- her mind, too, stumbled over the thought- deformity was gone again, in it's place her loving Angel of Music.  
"Come." Erik yanked her up roughly. She winced, and Erik instantly loosened his harsh grip on her upper arm. "Those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you." He nearly growled, heading towards the door.  
"Say you'll share with me, one love, one lifetime..." came the words from behind him. He turned around sharply, seeing that Christine had stayed behind him and was now surveying him with a pained expression in her eyes.  
"Say the word and I will follow you." The Phantom responded, still not turning to face Christine.  
"Say you love me?"  
Erik turned around and saw Christine, her eyes large and pleading. "You know I do. Love me, that's all I ask of you." He considered for a moment, then reached into his cape and pulled out a ring. "That's all I ask of you." He repeated.  
Christine rushed forward and threw her arms around him. At first, Erik shuddered, not used to human touched, but after a few seconds, he returned the embrace. She took the ring, smiling.  
The door flew open. A group of policemen rushed onto the roof, brandishing guns.  
"Where is he?" One wildly shouted, his eyes filled with bloodlust.  
"Where is the murderer?" Another screamed, his eyes too filled with want for blood.  
Erik thought of his options, none of them good. He could overpower the policemen, yet there were simply too many of them, and his Punjab Lasso was curled into his secret pocket in his cape. He could rush for the door, but it was probably locked. There was one more option. Yes, that could work, Erik thought, it could work indeed.  
He pressed a gentle kiss to Christine's forehead, took a step forward and looked at the scene behind him.  
The police were closing in on him, their hair wet with sweat, their eyes crazed and angry. The wooden door, most likely locked and bolted behind them. And his Christine, still cradling the ring in her hands, being rudely shoved about by the police.  
He took a deep breath and jumped into the starry night.  
******Well, dear readers, technically, we have reached the end of Act I, as there will be no chandelier scene. However, you can expect the next update with no further delay than normally.  
I apologize for any mistakes. Google Docs deleted the last half of this story last night, and I had to re-write it rather quickly.  
Thank you for all of your reviews, favorites, and story alerts. It's great to know that it's being read :)  
Love, Panda  
(Reviewers get a "Phantom of the Opera" candle. Well, not really, but I'll light mine (it's homemade) for each review. And I get a large, silly grin on my face and start to giggle)  
*struts off pretending she did not just stop at a major cliffhanger* Dum di dum di dum...weather's nice today...dum di dum di dum.  
Please review! 3**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five! I hope you enjoy! It takes place during the intermission, the six months between the chandelier crash and Masquerade. **

**Melstrife: I know right! Damn their timing!**

**Penelope Zozes: Why, thank you :3 Anyways, my candle has been merrily burning for the past half hour in honor of you. **

**Rating: T, because I'm paranoid.**

**Characters: Christine, Erik, Raoul (as a girl), Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, Piangi, Meg Giry, Madame Giry, etc. etc. and some minor OCs.**

**Summary: Instead of Raoul, Renee. Instead of a boy, a girl. Instead of an unhappy ending for Erik, a happy one. What the musical may have been like if Raoul were a girl. Erik/Christine. Mostly musical verse, some book-based ideas and concepts.**

**Disclaimer: HA. HA. HA. I DON'T OWN PHANTOM OF THE OPERA. I'M NOT A GENIUS. I'M THREE IQ POINTS AWAY FROM THAT. I ALSO DON'T OWN ANY SONGS USED IN THIS CHAPTER. OKAY, I'M DONE WITH ALL CAPS NOW. **

**This chapter contains a "Les Miserables" reference. And, apparently, an unintentional Star Trek reference. For those of you who haven't seen or heard of it (Les Miserables, not Star Trek),it is a wonderful musical. Both Ramin Karimloo, Sierra Boggess, and Lea Salonga have been in it, and they are three of my favorite people in the entire world. Cookies/Phangirl Candle Lighting to those who find it. **

Nadir Khan was reading the newspaper calmly- some headline about a new opera singer at the Opera Populaire (he briefly wondered if Erik had anything to do with this)-in his small flat in the Rue di Rivoli when he heard a frantic knocking at the door.

Wondering who could be knocking at such a late hour, he stood and strode across his living room and unlocked the door to a bewildered Erik.

Nadir gasped, taking in Erik's terrible appearance. His mask was on, his wig intact, yet the seen half of his face was contorted in intense pain. As soon as the Persian opened the door, Erik fell forward onto the floor, writhing in pain. Nadir studied the poor man, and noticed his legs were twisted and crippled.

"Erik..." he leaned down and looked at the Phantom, concern in his voice. "What happened to you?"

"Daroga..." the Phantom whispered, trying to pull himself off the floor, his eyes crazed with pain and fear. "Help me..." He vomited wildly, writhing in pain. Nadir watched in horror as his eyes rolled backwards and he fainted, crashing down onto the floor. He didn't get up.

"Can you save him?" The Persian asked with obvious worry.

"I'm a doctor, not a miracle worker." The doctor in attendance snapped. "And a blind doctor at that. I wouldn't have much hope." He stood up and began to go to the door.

"But monsieur!" Nadir stood and followed the doctor, trying to get some help for his-well, friend, he guessed. "There must be something you can do!"

The doctor turned in the doorstep. "Monsieur. There is not much I can do as a doctor. You, however, must simply make sure that he stays hydrated and still for as long as possible. The rest is up to him completely." And with a slight bow, he walked out of the door, leaving the Persian to make sure his friend survived alone.

The first day after Erik arrived, he developed a dangerously high fever.

The second, he began to hallucinate, shouting out "Christine! Christine!" over and over again.

The third, he began to cough up blood. All efforts to feed or water him were wasted, as he threw that up immediatly.

The fourth, he was silent, barely breathing. Nadir began to lose hope.

The fifth, he slept the entire day.

The sixth, he started to move, asking for water.

After a week, his fever broke.

After two, he could sit up.

Three, he could move around well, just not walk.

Four, he could move his leg without searing, burning pain.

After six, he could walk, very brief stretches, with crutches.

After two months, he could walk with a cane.

After four, he could walk normally, but not with the usual stealth he used to possess.

After five, he would sneak out to the Opera Populaire and watch the cast.

He returned to living. Erik began to compose, his yearning for music nearly eating him alive. He would play non stop for hours on Nadir's worn piano, scratching out tunes wildly and played mangled chords.

"Erik, what are you composing?" The Daroga asked one day, as Erik sat at his piano for over seven hours, not getting up to eat or drink.

"A song," came the response. Nadir rolled his eyes.

"Of course it's a song. What kind of a song?"

"A song for Christine."

The Persian simply shrugged and accepted he probably wouldn't know much more about the song. But that night as he lay awake in bed, he head the tentative strains of a melody and words through the thin door.

"_The day starts, the day ends  
Time crawls by  
Night steals in, pacing the floor  
The moments creep,  
Yet I can't bear to sleep  
Till I hear you sing"_

Nadir paused. Was Erik crying? Yet he continued the song.

"_And weeks pass, and months pass  
Seasons fly  
Still you don't walk through the door  
And in a haze  
I count the silent days  
Till I hear you sing once more._

_And sometimes at night time  
I dream that you are there  
But wake holding nothing but the empty air_

_And days come, and days go  
Time runs dry  
Still I ache down to the core  
My broken soul  
Can't be alive and whole  
Till I hear you sing once more_

_And music, your music  
It teases at my ear  
I turn and it fades away and you're not here_

_Let hopes pass, let dreams pass  
Let them die  
Without you, what are they for?  
I'll always feel  
No more than halfway real  
Till I hear you sing once more…"_

So this was the depth of Erik's love to the young opera singer, Nadir mused. He would write a song for her, anything. And the Persian knew how much his music meant to Erik. It was nearly as if they were bonded by the unearthly notes that floated through the still air and seemed to speak to Nadir's very soul. It was almost as if this young Daae was Erik's music, as if without her, he was nothing.

The Phantom of the Opera watched the Opera Populaire's rehearsels from Box Five. La Carlotta, that little toad, had re-taken her position as prima donna, while Christine was forced to dance merrily in the back, merely nodding her head to the beat of the music and gracefully leaping through the air. Erik grimaced. Christine was too good for the chorus, and he knew it, and so did she. So did everyone. Madame Giry, Meg, even that patron, the Vicomtesse and her husband. No one thought Carlotta was good, except for the people who actually mattered in casting, namely, the owners and Carlotta herself.

He considered sending the managers another "friendly letter", but he decided against it. Let them think I am dead, he thought, plotting. Let them think I have left them for good, that I am no longer with them- then, yes, then, I shall strike. He smiled slightly, and with a swish of his cape, he was gone.

He did not notice Christine was still wearing his ring.

The infamous Phantom of the Opera walked home in the rain through the winding, narrow streets of Paris, feeling utterly alone. His music had left him- Christine was his music. His Angel was gone. Who knew if the managers would ever truly give up the fear that he was alive, and if they didn't, it would be far too risky to return the the Opera Populaire.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and Erik started. The rain began to fall, staining his cloak. He cursed his luck and desperately attempted to make his strides faster, hoping to get home before he was soaked to the skin.

"Hey, circus freak!" The Phantom turned and saw a group of three jeering, starved, and dirty beggar boys. He turned again, walking faster still.

"Circus freak!" The boys jumped down from the filthy crates they had been sitting on, and chased after him, their bare feet stained with dirt.

Erik did not respond, he simply stared at his worn leather shoes, splashing through puddles.

The boys circled him, laughing and calling him names. The Phantom ignored it, he was used to it.

"Devil's child!" One called, and Erik remembered being trapped in a cage. He stiffened.

Noticing the man's stiffness, the smallest boy came up to him and shoved him in the shoulder. Caught off guard, Erik tripped and fell into a muddy puddle, the mud staining his carefully crafted white porcelain mask. He cursed and swung himself to his feet, his full height foreboding and frightening to the boys.

"You try my patience," he whispered, but the words and the meaning behind them rang loud and clear.

The boys quickly mumbled an apology and took off, mumbing about insane people and lunatics. Perhaps I am a lunatic, Erik thought. Let it be so! Perhaps I am nothing without my music, without my Christine!

He knew it was true, he felt it in his distorted, scarred soul. A tear dribbled down his unscarred cheek, and he resumed his way to the Daroga's flat.

When he arrived there, nearly an hour later, the dirt staining his mask had disappeared.

Christine absentmindedely twirled the ring on her finger while Renee tried to get her attention by poking her repeatedly.

"Christine! Christine! _Christine!" _She needled Christine, who inwardly rolled her eyes.

"_What?"_ She hissed. For months, Renee and Meg had tried to get her to tell who had given her the ring. They had poked and prodded, bribed and blackmailed, but Christine did not budge. She would not tell them until Erik's name was cleared, it was too risky for both of them. Yet she missed him. She missed him so much, the Phantom, no, her Angel, no, _Erik. _She wanted to hear his music again. She felt as if she caught in the silence a sigh of a faraway song, and wondered if Erik was still alive and playing, singing about her. Composing for her. Making her music, giving her her voice.

"Christiiiine, pleeeaaase tell me!" Renee begged.

"Tell you what?" Christine feigned innocence.

"Who gave you the riiing!" She sing-songed.

"No, Renee." Christine said, irriatated.

"My dearest Little Lotte, you must!" Renee huffed and put her hands on her hips.

"Renee." Christine looked up from her hand and faced her friend. "Remember what I told you?"

"Yes...You said you'd tell me when you were ready."

"Yes, Renee," Christine poked her friend's nose. "And I will tell you when I'm _ready._" She said, emphasizing the last word.

"But..but..." Renee blubbered with false depression. "I'm sad now..." She put on a childish pout.

Christine giggled lightly, despite her annoyance. "Renee, darling, you realize you are a child, right?"

Renee stuck her bottom lip out, looking very very much like a child. "I am not a little child!" She insisted, her blonde curls bouncing, her blue eyes alight.

"Yes, you are, act like you are four. Maybe five. " Christine rolled her eyes.

"Don't roll your eyes!" Renee complained, twisting her mouth into an amusing smile.

Christine giggled and proceeded to roll her eyes over and over again. "I'm dizzy!" She cried.

"Then stop rolling your eyes!" Renee responding, smacking Christine's forehead.

"Okay, okay, I'll stop." Christine looked at her watch. "I have to practice..."

"But, Christine!" Renee looked appalled. "Have you heard about the Masquerade?"

"What Masquerade?" Christine asked, confused.

"Why, the big masked ball that they're having to celebrate that the dreadful Phantom of the Opera seems to be gone at last!"

"Oh, that ball." Christine said wryly. It hurt her heart to think of it. Masks and the Phantom of the Opera. This ball screamed Erik. "Yes, I don't think I'm going."

"What? Why not?"

"I..I don't feel like it?" But Christine knew she lost her battle. Renee was obssesed with balls and dresses, and twirling around in fine satin.

"Oh, Christine, you must go!" Renee cried, bouncing in her seat.

"No, Renee, really, I don't want to..." Christine tried one last time to get out of going to the ball.

"Christine." Renee sat up straight in her chair. "My dear, you must go. It will be fun. You can come with Averell and I. Perhaps your elusive fiancee-" she motioned to the ring- "will be there as well? And I can meet him?" She added hopefully.

Christine gave up, groaning to herself. "Fine, fine..." her voice trailed off as she realized Renee's words. Erik would be there. He must be there, it was the only way. And, Christine realized, the most probable way. It was a masked ball. Everyone would be there. And it was, of course, celebrating his "disappearance." But he would have to be there. Christine had to see him again, no matter what the cost.

Even if she had to wait a thousand years, Christine would never give up hope.

**So, chapter five, dear readers. Your cliffhanger is partially resolved. Next chapter is, I think, Masquerade. *sings* HIDE YOUR FACE! Anyway...**

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Erik, of course, got incredibly lucky. Sorry if I fudged up medicine too much. I know Renee is a bit irritating, but she is Raoul's character traits from a more feminine perspective. **

**Thanks again for the reviews, story alerts, favorites, and author alerts. My Phangirl candle has been burning merrily. **

**Love, Panda.**

**(I light my Phangirl candle for reviewers! And I'm happy!) **


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six, here it is! Sorry for the long update, explanation is at the bottom. **

**Wesailattwilght: Ikr? I pity them, but it's all my fault...**

**Guest: Great job! *virtual cookies***

**Darkgemwildcat: I only stayed up till about three in the morning for it...thanks! And great job! *cookies* And ikr? Ramin is one of my favorite Eriks. Personally, I don't really like Gerik. We should fangirl together sometime.**

**Mystic Shroud: Thank you! Yes, that toad should really back off *glares* Awesome name, by the way. **

**Penelope Zozes: THANK YOU! *hug* Anyway, it was "I catch in the silence the sigh of a faraway song" from "In My Life." **

**Animexmanga23: Thanks for the review! **

**(If you commented on the chapter and didn't get a response, it's because my computer is sloooow and won't send the emails. Sorry! I'll include you next time )**

**Rating: T, because I'm paranoid.**

**Characters: Christine, Erik, Raoul (as a girl), Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, Piangi, Meg Giry, Madame Giry, etc. etc. and some minor OCs.**

**Summary: Instead of Raoul, Renee. Instead of a boy, a girl. Instead of an unhappy ending for Erik, a happy one. What the musical may have been like if Raoul were a girl. Erik/Christine. Mostly musical verse, some book-based ideas and concepts.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera. *cries* but I'm getting the book! *happy dance***

**I am including lyrics from "Masquerade" in this chapter, although they are not spoken aloud or sung. I just feel that the scene isn't complete without the song. **

**On with the story **

Christine stepped out of the carriage and peered at the Paris Opera House through the slits of her mask.

Renee had insisted on her accompanying her and Averell, and had helped Christine dress up before the ball. Christine was wearing a light blue dress with sparkles, her mask was pink. Christine sighed. The costume was incredibly itchy.

Renee had gone all out with a princess costume, fitted with a sparkling tiara and a wand. Christine wasn't quite sure where the wand came in, but she wasn't going to question it.

Averell was wearing a black overcoat with matching buttons, dressed incredibly plain next to Renee. Christine giggled lightly, thinking of how different Averell was from Renee. Averell was calm. Renee was hyperactive like a child. Averell was seemingly a person who enjoyed the simple things in life. Renee loved lavish parties and clothing. Yet they seemed to love each other, Christine mused. It was strange how different they were, yet their bond seemed strong. Christine could only hope her bond to Erik was like that- unconditional and to the ends of the earth.

Andre and Firmin crept down the joined marble staircases, trying hopelessly not to crash into anyone while walking backwards. As soon as they were about to crash into each other, they turned around and started, only seeing a masked face.

"Aah!" They both shouted, jumping backwards.

"Andre?" Firmin asked, peering into the eye slits of the elaborate mask.

"Firmin?" Andre replied, recognizing the voice.

They nodded and laughed, embarassed at their clumsiness.

"Well, Andre what a splendid party!" Firmin cried, slapping his friend on the back.

"Ah, yes, it's a prolouge to a brand new year!" Andre agreed.

"Quite a night! Oh, I'm impressed!" Firmin said, awed, looking at the lavish decorations around the Paris Opera House that must have cost a fortune.

"Well, one does one's best..." Andre said, modestly brushing off the compliment.

"A toast to all the city!" Firmin stood in the center of the room, and nearly yelled. "Well, Phantom, it's quite a pity you can't be here!"

"Firmin!" Andre shushed his partner. "He could be here for all we know!"

Erik smiled from his hiding spot. Oh, if they only knew...

In the ballroom, Christine was wishing Erik was here. How she hated being twirled around by all of those strangers she knew nothing of, dressed in fancy clothing with wishing faces and unskilled fingers. How she hated being badgered by Renee. She would have simply been all right with sitting there..watching everyone.

_Masquerade! _

_Paper faces on parade ... _

Christine walked around, looking at the different masks. How beautiful they all were...

_Masquera__de! _

_Hide your face,so the world will never find you!_

_Masquerade! Every face a different shade ..._

_Masquerade! Look around - there's another mask behind you!_

_Flash of mauve, splash of puce ..._

_Fool and king, ghoul and ghost ..._

_Green and black, queen and priest ..._

_Trace of rouge, face of beast ...Faces ... _

Christine had to think of Erik. He had hidden behind his mask for God knew how many years, hiding his deformed visage from the cruel, judgemental looks of the human race.

_Take your turn, take a ride on the merry-go-round ... _

_in an inhuman race ...Eye of gold, thigh of blue ..._

_True is false, who is who?_

_Curl of lip, swirl of__gown ..._

_Ace of hearts, face of clown ..._

_Faces ... _

_Drink it in, drink it__up,till you've drowned in the light ..._

_in the sound ..._

"But who can name the face?" Christine muttered to herself, wondering if Erik was among here somehow and if she had missed him. She would never be able to forgive herself is she had done that...

_Masquera__de! Grinning yellows, spinning reds.._

_Masquera__de! Take your fill- let the__spectacle astound you!_

_Masquera__de! Burning glances, turning heads ..._

_Masquerade! Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you!_

_Masquera__de! Seething shadows,__breathing lies ..._

_Masquerade! You can fool and friend who ever knew you!_

_Masquera__de! Leering satyrs,peering eyes ..._

_Masquera__de! Run and hide –_

_but a face will still pursue you..._

"What a night!" Madame Giry said to her daughter, Meg.

"Yes, maman." Meg agreed. "There's quite a crowd."

"Oh, doesn't it make you glad?" Andre said to Firmin. They were standing a few feet away.

"Yes, makes you proud." Firmin agreed.

Carlotta twirled by on Piangi's arm, then remarked to him: "I love watching them watch us."

Piangi nodded. "With all of our fears in the past."

"Six months!" Andre was shouting to Firmin. "Six months of relief and delight! When we can breathe at last!"

"Yes, yes," Firmin sniffed. "Six months of no more notes, and no more ghosts."

"I demand a toast!" Andre stood up on a chair. "To a prosperous year!"

"To Carlotta's career!" Piangi added.

"Yes, may it never fade," Carlotta added smugly. Christine rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes," Andre said impatiently. "Six months phantom-free! What a joy!"

"What a change..." Meg remarked to her mother.

"What a release!" Andre finished his speech to large cheers.

"And what a masquerade!" Firmin shouted, causing more cheers to erupt.

Meanwhile, Christine was trying to evade Renee asking her more questions about her fiancee.

"Renee, just, think of it- it's a secret engagement. Secret being the operative word here?"

"But why is it a secret?" Christine groaned. Why couldn't Renee understand? "What have you to hide?" Renee continued.

"Renee..." Christine looked around, searching for an escape.

"Christine, it's not as if you're a prisoner!"

"Just, don't let them know, you can't know..."

"Christine, you promised me..."

"Renee, wait until the time is right..."

"When will that be?" Renee put her hands on her sparkling dress. "It's an engagement, not a crime. Christine, what are you afraid of?"

"Nothing!" Christine smacked her forehead with the palm of her hand. "Lets not argue, Renee..."

"Yes, let's not argue...I can only hope I'll understand in time."

"You will." Christine promised. "Oh, Renee, you will." She twisted her ring around nervously.

_Masquerade! Paper faces on parade! _

_Masquerade! Hide your face, so the world will never find you! _

_Masquerade! Every face a different shade! _

_Masquerade! Look around - there's another mask behind you! _

_Masquerade! Burning glances! turning heads ...Masquerade! _

_Stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you! _

_Masquerade! Grinning yellows, spinning reds..._

_Masquerade! Take your fill - let the spectacle astound you!_

It was strange feeling, but Christine had the surest sense that something….magnifying had just happened. She turned around and her heart nearly stopped.

It was a man in a Red Death costume, his plumed hat neatly on his head. His entire face was covered with a skeleton mask, and his eyes, seen through the mask, were deep and utterly familiar. Christine felt her breath catch in her throat. Could it be?

The room fell silent, every eye in the ball on the masked figure standing in the entrance of the ballroom.

"Why so silent, good monsieurs?" It began to speak. The voice was dark, incredibly masculine. Christine's doubts vanished. It was, indeed, Erik, her Angel. The Phantom of the Opera.

"Did you think that I had left you for good?" Andre choked on his wine when he realized who it was. Firmin simply stood there, eyes wide open. "Have you missed me, good monsieurs?" Erik said, now addressing those bumbling idiots known as "Opera House Owners."

"I have written you an opera! Here I bring the finished score! Don Juan Triumphant!" Erik waved sheet music in front of them and let it fall to their feet with a plop. "I advise you to comply, my instructions should be clear, remember I can cause worse things like a shattered chandelier." Andre and Firmin looked at each other and gasped. Not the beautiful glass chandelier!

"As for you, Miss Daae," the figure turned to Christine, who felt her breath hitch. "Your chains are mine." Their eyes locked for the tiniest bit of a mere second, and Christine realized he was referring to their engagement and her ring. "You will sing for me." Christine bowed her head, eager to comply her Angel's wishes. The Red Death disappeared with a swish of his red cloak, and the ball-goers hastily made their way to the exit, hoping to avoid a catastrophe.

Renee remained, suspicious of her friend's intentions. "Averell, darling," she said to the side, seeing her husband. "Fetch us a carriage, will you? I need to talk to someone."

Averell merely shrugged, having gotten used to his wife's antics a long time ago.

Renee looked around for someone, then saw the ballet mistress running up the stairs.

"Madame Giry. Madame Giry . ." She cried, hoping to catch the ballet instructor before she disappeared.

Madame Giry seemed to know what she wanted. "Madam, don't ask me - I know no more than anyone else."

But Renee knew she was lying. "That's not true. You've seen something, haven't you?"

Madame Giry seemed very nervous. "I don't know what I've seen ..." She wrang her hands. "Please don't ask me, madam..."

But Renee was desperate for answers, and let her be damned if Madame Giry got away without answering at least some of her question. "Madame, for all our sakes ..." she pleaded.

Madame Giry seemed to know that she would lose this battle of wills against the young Vicomtesse, and anxiously glanced around her before continuing. "Very well. It was years ago. There was a travelling fair in the , conjurors, human oddities ..." She shuddered.

"Go on ..." Renee urged.

Madame Giry took a deep breath. "And there was ..." she shivered. "I shall never forget him: a man, Iocked in a cage ..."

"In a cage ...?" Renee was skeptical.

"Yes, a prodigy, madame! Scholar, architect, musician."

Renee's face paled. "And a composer ..."

Madame Giry nodded. "And an inventor too, madame.They boasted he had once built for the Shah of Persia, a maze of mirrors ..." Her voice trailed off into the distance.

"Who was this man?" Renee urged the ballet mistress to go on.

"A freak of nature ..." Madame Giry whispered, her mind caught in the past. "More monster than man..."

"Deformed?" Renee's sense of urgency was deepening.

"From birth, it seemed ..." Madame Giry sniffed slightly and tilted her head.

Renee quickly put the pieces together, realized who her friend was engaged to, what kind of a monster he was..."My God, Christine!" She cried.

Madame Giry continued her story, her eyes glazing over. "And then ... he went missing. He escaped."

"Go on." Renee's voice broke.

"They never found him...it was said he had died ..." Madame Giry glanced around nervously, but Renee pressed on.

"But he didn't die, did he?"

"The world forgot him, but I never can, for in this darkness I have seen him again..." Madame Giry seemed more panicked by the second.

"And so our Phantom's this man ..." Renee whispered in horror.

"I have said too much, madame." Madame Giry turned to go, shouting over her shoulder as she bounded frantically up the marble stairs. "And there have been too many accidents!" She spat out the last word as if it were a curse.

"Accidents?" Renee repeated. "Madame Giry!" She cried, wanting, no, needing more answers.

But she was gone.

**IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT! IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!**

**I apologize for the slow update. I've been in school and was helping with my friend's theatre performance, so I was building sets and washing stuff, etc, etc. I've had a lot of late nights, and have had to catch up with homework. Now, I'm in France on vacation for the next few weeks and have very very limited internet access. Plus all of my friends want a crap ton of postcards. Please do not expect many updates in this time, I'll be better about updating once I have a stable internet connection. **

**Thanks for your positive feedback, talk to you again in several weeks. Love you all. **

**Love, Panda.**

**(For every review, I won't know, because my phone doesn't work in France. Damnit. Review anyway! 3 ) **


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven! **

**Erik's-Blue-Rose: Thanks! Well, I am updating, so there you go!**

**Penelope Zozes: Aw, thanks! **

**Darkgemwildcat: I'm so happy I helped your mood. Hope you're okay :D**

**MusicalLover17: Thanks for the review! Hope you like the new chapter!**

**Rating: T, because I'm paranoid.**

**Characters: Christine, Erik, Raoul (as a girl), Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, Piangi, Meg Giry, Madame Giry, etc. etc. and some minor OCs.**

**Summary: Instead of Raoul, Renee. Instead of a boy, a girl. Instead of an unhappy ending for Erik, a happy one. What the musical may have been like if Raoul were a girl. Erik/Christine. Mostly musical verse, some book-based ideas and concepts.**

**Disclaimer: I have an idea. Let's get magical purple unicorns to give me Phantom of the Opera. No, I don't own it. **

**Thanks to all the follows and faves. **

Christine spun around and glared at her friend.

"What is your problem, Renee?" She sneered, her hands on her hips.

"You're my problem!" Renee glared at Christine.

"I'm your problem?" Christine pointed incredulously at herself. "You're the one whose been hounding me for _days_ about my fiancee!"

"For good reason!" Renee tried to defend herself.

"Good reason?" Christine threw her hands up. "You don't even know who he _is_!"

"Yes I do!" Renee gasped as she realized she said too much. "I know who he is, and I know that he's dangerous!"

Christine's world went gray. Her ears were pounding. Her eyes felt as if they were burning. Her veins were filled fire. She took a shocked step back, then sank down on the cool marble steps.

"You listen to me now, Renee," Christine spat her friend's name out venomously. "You know nothing, _nothing, _about Erik. So don't even try to pretend like you know anything based on the crackpot tales of a hyperactive chorus girl."

"But I do know, Christine!" Renee whined. "He killed Buquet!"

Christine looked for a way out. "You know nothing, Renee, nothing!" Christine stood up. She spun on her heel and turned to go.

"Christine!" Renee called to her back, but Christine did not turn.

"Stay away from me." Christine shouted at her friend, then raced up the marble steps and disappeared.

"Ludicrous!" Andre paced around in his office, throwing his hands up in the air. "Have you seen the score?"

"Simply ludicrous!" Firmin agreed, wringing his hands.

"It's the final straw!" Andre replied.

"This is lunacy! Well, you know my views..." Firmin let that sentence trail off. "But we can't refuse!"

"Not our precious chandelier..." Andre looked up at the marvelous chandelier in all of its glory.

Firmin bent over his desk and retrieved a letter, his expression one of utter disgust. "Look, my friend, what we have here..."

Andre grimaced as she saw his letter. He took a deep breath and began to read. "Dear Andre, Re my orchestrations: We need another first bassoon. Get a player with tone -and that third trombone has to go! The man could not be deafer, so please preferably one who plays in tune!" He tutted and put the letter down.  
Firmin shook his letter open and cleared his throat. "Dear Firmin, vis a vis my opera: some chorus-members must be sacked. If you could, find out which has a sense of pitch - wisely, though, I've managed to assign a rather minor role to those who cannot act! This man is ridiculous!"

"Yes, he is." Andre replied.

Carlotta stormed into the office. "Outrage!" She squealed, flinging her fine scarf over her shoulder.

"What is it now?" Firmin sneered at her, irritated with the prima donna.

"This whole affair is an outrage!" She jabbed her finger through the air.

Andre rolled his eyes. "Now what's the matter?"  
"Have you seen the size of my part?" Carlotta sneered.

"Signora, listen ..." Andre tried to explain, but Piangi rudely cut him off.  
"It's an insult!"  
"Not you as well!" Firmin threw his hands up in the air.  
Piangi jabbed his overweight fingers at the script in his hands. "Just look at this- it's an insult!"

"Please, understand ..." Firmin tried to calm the two down.

"The things I have to do for my art!" Carlotta sniffed.

Piangi snorted. "If you can call this gibberish "art" !"

Christine walked into the room, her gown trailing slightly behind her. She looked worn and tired. Averell and Renee followed close behind.

None of them looked happy.

"Ah! Here's our little flower!" Carlotta sneered.

"Ah Miss Daae, quite the lady of the hour!" Firmin patted Christine on the back. She raised her eyebrows.

"You have secured the largest role in this "Don Juan"." Andre explained to Christine. She already knew, of course.

"Christine Daae?She doesn't have the voice!" Carlotta waved her gloved hands through the air.

"Signora, please!" Firmin whirled around to face her, trying to shut her up.

"She's behind this ..." Carlotta jabbed her finger at Christine, who looked shocked.

"It appears we have no choice." Andre remarked to Firmin.

Carlotta decided she wasn't being heard and repeated it louder. "She's the one behind this! Christine Daae!"

"Okay, that's it!" Christine stomped her foot. "How dare you? You evil woman, how dare you?"

"I'm not a fool!" Carlotta countered. "You think I'm blind?"

"This isn't my fault!" Christine screamed, and it seemed as if it were almost going to end up being a full-out cat fight when Madame Giry cleared her throat.

"Please, monsieur: another note." Scattered groans.

"Fondest greetings to you all." She read. "A few instructions just before rehearsal starts: Carlotta must be taught to act ... , ... not her normal trick of strutting round the stage..."

"What? This is an outrage!" Carlotta screeched, but she was quickly shushed by the rest.

Madame Giry continued. "Our Don Juan must lose some weight - it's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age. And my managers must learn that their place is in an office, not the arts. As for Miss Christine Daae. No doubt she'll do her best - it's true her voice is good. She knows, though, should she wish to excel she has much still to learn, so she will return to me, her teacher." Madame Giry paused.  
"Your obedient friend ... and Angel."

Christine bowed her head.

Renee grew very quiet. She seemed to be formulating a plan, yet what that plan was, no one could say. Finally, she jumped to her feet. "We have all been blind –" she said, her voice low and foreboding. "And yet the answer is staring us in the face ... This could be the chance to ensnare our clever friend!" She grinned manically.

"We're listening." Andre cut in. "Go on."  
"We shall play his game –" Renee continued her plan. Christine's eyes widened in horror. "Perform his work - but remember we hold the ace ... For, if Miss Daae sings, he is certain to attend ..."  
Andre lept to his feet. "Yes! We make certain the doors are barred! We make certain our men are there.

"We make certain they're armed." Averell finished. The three men and Renee exchanged gleeful looks.

"The curtain falls. His reign will end!" Andre chuckled.

Madame Giry stepped in front of Christine. She was pale white. "Madness! You are insane!

"I'm not so sure!" Andre sneered at her. "Not if it works!

"This is madness!" Madame Giry continued.

"The tide will turn!" Firmin shouted, eager to start with his- or Renee's- plan .

"Monsieur, believe me -there is no way of turning the tide!" Christine pleaded.

"This is madness!" Madame Giry repeated.

"You stick to singing!" Firmin waved Christine off.

"Then help us, Christine!" Renee grabbed her friend's arm, trying to make her understand.

"No, I won't!" Christine twisted her arm out of Renee's grasp.

"Ha!" Renee shouted, pointing at Christine with a trembling finger. "You're on his side!"

"What?" Christine shrieked.  
"She's the one behind this! Christine!" Carlotta joined in. "This is all just a ploy to help Christine!"

"Yes!" Piangi shouted, joining into the confusion.  
"If you succeed you free us all -this so called "angel" has to fall!" Firmin tried to convince Christine to go through with this madness, but she simply shook her head, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Angel of music, fear my fury -Here is where you fall!" Renee was shouting up at the ceiling, perhaps hoping to wake Erik.

"No- he's not evil!" Christine pleaded, but no one was listening to her.

"Christine sings. We'll get our man ..." Andre was plotting.

"Christine, you must help us!" Firmin was still trying to convince Christine, to no avail.

"Please don't-" Christine sobbed.

"Monsieur, I beg you, do not do this ..." Madame Giry was trying to comfort the now hysterical Christine.

"If you don't stop, I'll go mad!" Christine shouted suddenly, and the babble in the office quieted to an uneasy silence. "Renee, don't make me do this! Renee, it scares me –you'll take him, I know." Christine pleaded, but Renee's face seemed to be made of stone. "We'll be parted for ever..you won't let him go. If you kill him, the music will end, and he'll always be there, singing songs in my head. He'll always be there, singing songs in my head ..."

"She's mad..." Carlotta whispered.

"Yet while he lives, he will haunt us till we're dead." Renee's voice was unforgiving.

Twisted every way, Christine thought as she stared in pure, unbridled shock at her friend, What answer can I give? Am I to risk his life for Renee's insane plan? Can I betray the man who inspires my voice? Does he become their prey? Do I have any choice? They'd kill without a thought, they'd murder all that's good. I know I can't refuse and yet, I wish I could . Oh God - if I agree, what horrors wait for him-what horrors wait for _me-_in this, the Phantom's opera? She sank into a chair, pale as death.

Renee knelt down beside her friend and spoke in what she thought was a comforting voice. "Christine, Christine, don't think that I don't care - but every hope and every prayer rests on you now!"

"No." Christine stood up suddenly. "I can't."

"But, Christine-"

"I won't!" She shouted, then ran out of the office, banging the door shut behind her.

"_Hide our sword now wounded knight!"_ The chorus sang the next day at Don Juan rehearsel. Christine felt like covering her ears. "_Your vain glorious gasconnade broug__ht you to__your final fight for__your pride, high price you've __paid!"_

"_Silken couch and hay-filled barn__, __both have been his battlefield." _Christine sang. She had had a lesson with Erik the evening before, and she sounded perfect.

_"__Those who tangle with Don Juan . . ."_Piangi blared. Christine grimaced.

"No, no, no!" Reyer shouted. "Chorus, rest please. Monsieur! If you please!" He played the notes on the piano. "_Those who tange with Don Juan_! Again!"

"_Those who tangle with Don JUAN_!" Piangi "sang" forcefully.

"No! _Those who tangle with Don Juan_!" Reyer played it again on the piano. "Those who tan tan tan."

"_Those who have been tangling with Don Juan_-" Nearly the entire chorus groaned.

"His way is better!" Carlotta declared. "At least he makes it sound like music..."

"Would you speak that way in the presence of the composer?" Madame Giry said, one eyebrow raised.

Carlotta sniffed. "The composer is not here."

"Are you certain of that, Signora?" Madame Giry countered. Before Carlotta could figure out what that meant, Reyer continued.

"Once again- after seven, fix, six, seven-" But his words were lost on the chorus. They chattered amongst themselves, creating quite a racket. Carlotta lept to her feet and stood in front of Reyer.

"Why does it matter what notes we sing?" She sneered.

"Madame, please, have patience-" Madame Giry begged.

"No one will know if it is right or wrong!" Carlotta shouted. "No one will care! Those who tangle with Don Juan-" she sang, mockingly.

Meanwhile, Piangi was trying to get it right again. "Those who tan- Is that right, madame?" He asked Christine, who was sitting next to him.

Christine was beginning to get a bit of headache from all this racket. "Not quite, monsieur, if you see here-" she pointed at the music.

"Those who tangle with Don Juan-" Carlotta was singing to Reyer. "This is not music!"

Reyer ignored the snifling diva and tried to restore order. "Madame-Monsieur, if you please!"

He was interrupted by the piano playing by itself. The notes rang out in the air. They seemed unearthly, perfect even- the entire chorus' mouths were opened in shock. Slowly, they began to sing- and they sounded _good. _

Christine, however, was tired. She felt as if she were betraying her teacher, her Angel- she needed to talk to someone.

But who? Meg Giry couldn't understand- and Renee was out of the question. Christine felt her head pound. She needed to get out- and get out fast, before she fainted or threw up or something like that.

She pulled on her cloak and stepped out of the rehearsel room. Winding her way through the narrow hallway, she arrived by her dressing room. She stepped inside and pounded on the mirror, calling for Erik, calling for her Angel.

There was no answer.

Sighing, she walked out of the Opera Populaire. She knew where to go.

**Here's chapter Seven. Updates will become more regular, now that I'm back from France! I hope you enjoyed it! Please review!**

**Love, Panda**

**(Reviewers get cookies. Not really, but I light my Phantom candle (It's getting shorter- o.O) **


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight! Finally! So sorry!**

**Penelope Zozes: Thank you! And I'm most familiar with the stage version, so..you know. *shrugs***

**Durna: Continuing.**

**Darkgemwildcat: So sorry for the long wait…updating now :3**

**Wesailattwilight: IKR, that biatch…jk!**

**MusicalLover17: THANK YOU! **

**Rating: T, because I'm paranoid.**

**Characters: Christine, Erik, Raoul (as a girl), Andre, Firmin, Carlotta, Piangi, Meg Giry, Madame Giry, etc. etc. and some minor OCs.**

**Summary: Instead of Raoul, Renee. Instead of a boy, a girl. Instead of an unhappy ending for Erik, a happy one. What the musical may have been like if Raoul were a girl. Erik/Christine. Mostly musical verse, some book-based ideas and concepts.**

**Disclaimer: No, I don't own the freaking Phantom of the freaking Opera. **

**Thanks to all the follows and faves. This chapter will be a slightly similar format to "Masquerade."**

This might be the second to last chapter, I'm not sure, though. 

Christine stepped out of the carriage, her hair falling gracefully to her shoulder. She sniffed at the crisp air and stepped towards the familiar city of tombs.  
This was where her last relative was buried, her last family. Her father.  
She wound her way around the too-familiar gravestones, passing by carved angels and heartless stone.

_You were once my one companion  
You were all that mattered  
You were once a friend and father  
Then my world was shattered_

She remembered the walks by the beach—that was how she meet Renee. She remembered the long days of playing violin in their little house, with her singing. Her voice was a bright, clear soprano back then, but she had let it fade into a croak after his death—until she met Erik. And then the sickness happened. Her father had wasted away, terribly so, until nothing was left except a shell of the man he used to be. And then, there was nothing, and Christine was alone.

_Wishing you were somehow here again  
Wishing you were somehow near  
Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed  
Somehow you would be here_

Wishing I could hear your voice again  
Knowing that I never would  
Dreaming of you won't help me to do  
All that you dreamed I could

Christine missed him, so, so much. She would have given anything—the last twenty years of her life, all of her possessions, hell, even her voice—to have him back. Anything.  
He was her everything. Losing her father wasn't like losing simply a parent for Christine—it was like getting the ground ripped out from below her feet.  
_  
Passing bells and sculpted angels  
Cold and monumental  
Seem for you the wrong companions  
You were warm and gentle_

Christine sat down on a cold bench by her father's grave, tracing the fine outline's of an angel's wings nearby. How cold they were, how unforgiving. Weren't angels supposed to be warm and full of golden light? Christine could hardly believe an angel had anything to do with this cold creature, standing by her father's grave as if guarding him from life, from love.

_Too many years fighting back tears  
Why can't the past just die?_

Christine stood. Tears, hot and boiling, slid down her cheeks, and they fell to the ground below. She wished she could forget him, could accept he was gone, but that was impossible. How could she ever forget the man who gave her everything? She didn't really remember her mother, and her other relatives were just blurs—her father was the only constant she had ever had in her life.  
_  
Wishing you were somehow here again  
Knowing we must say goodbye  
Try to forgive, teach me to live  
Give me the strength to try_

She knelt on the ground, the dampness soaking through her cloak. And still she wept, the tears staining her cheeks as she remembered the man who gave her _life. _She couldn't let go of him, couldn't let him leave her. His presence was still there, his influence still prominent. He was still very much alive to her, and unless she accepted he was lying under the cold, dark ground, seven feet underneath his daughter, his last living relative (Not counting his third cousin twice removed, who lived in Sweden, but he had barely known him anyway) she was going to miserable.

_No more memories  
No more silent tears  
No more gazing across these wasted years  
Help me say goodbye_

The chill was driving into her bones. She shivered. Was it simply a draft, or was there a ghost or phantom here? She dismissed the thought.

_Help me say goodbye…_

A strong gust of wind came up as she turned to go back home, chilling Christine to the bone. She thought she heard her name being called out, and turned around. Seeing nothing, she turned to leave, but heard a voice again. "Christine!" This time it was clear. She whipped around again and saw Erik, rushing toward her side.  
"Erik!" She cried, and he grinned lightly.  
"Christine, what are you doing here?" He asked.  
"Visiting my father." She said. A look of worry hushed over Erik's face, but disappeared as quickly as it had come. "And you?"  
"I was looking for you. Everyone has been frightened Christine, they even think I might've kidnapped you."  
Christine raised her eyebrows. "What? Why would you kidnap me?"  
"Don't ask me, ask your 'friend'", He spat the word as if it were a curse, "Renee."  
Christine inwardly rolled her eyes.  
"Christine!" Another voice shouted, a distinctly feminine one. "CHRISTINE!" Christine recognized the voice. Renee.  
"What, Renee?" She called out. "What are you doing here?"  
"Looking for you!" Renee came stumbling up the hill. "Are you—" she stopped as she saw Erik. "Oh," she said, her voice sounding disgusted. "It's _you._"  
"Yes, it's me!" Erik blustered. "I have every right to be here!" He grabbed Christine's arm. "Come one Christine, let's go."  
"No!" Renee shrieked and pounced on Christine, grabbing her wrist. "Leave her! You have no claim on her! Leave her! Your words are wasted -Can't you see she'll never be yours?"  
"Renee!" Christine tried to twist her arm out of Renee's grasp. "Stop it!"  
"Ha!" Erik turned to leave. "Bravo, young girl, such spirited words!"  
"Oh, do you have more tricks up your sleeve, _Monsieur?_" Renee sneered.  
"What tricks?" Erik asked, truly bemused. "Let's see how far you dare go, girl."  
"What are you even capable of?" Renee yelled, her eyes glazed over like a mad man's. "More deception, more violence?"  
"I haven't done anything!" Erik shouted, frightening Christine, who was cowering by the statue of an angel.  
Renee bit her lip and turned around, walking away. "That's right, keep walking, good girl!" Erik shouted after her, his voice filled with venom.  
Renee paused, then turned around and shrieked, "You can't win her love by making her your prisoner!"  
"She's not a prisoner!" Erik bellowed, his cape flapping in the wind.  
"Oh, she's not?" Renee taunted. "You're not the Angel of Music then, are you?"  
Erik shrank back, his features contorted with anger. "What?"  
"Ha, Angel of Music," Renee sneered. "More like Angel of _Death!" _She spat.  
"Leave." Erik hissed. "Now."  
"Fine, then!" Renee stamped her foot onto the ground.  
"And don't stop!" Erik shouted after her as the girl walked to a waiting carriage.

"You understand your instructions?" Averell said, looking over the group of firemen and soldiers that had assembled. It was the opening night of the Phantom's Opera, "Don Juan Triumphant," and this was the night the Phantom's reign would end.  
"Yes, sir!" The firemen shouted.  
"When the whistle blows, take up your positions. Close the doors. Secure them." He walked among the men, glaring at each of them. "It is essential that all of the doors are properly secured."  
The men nodded.  
"Are you sure we're doing the right thing?" A nervous Firmin asked Andre.  
"Do you have a better idea?" Andre hissed, surveying the stage.  
"Should I give the order?" Averell asked.  
Renee nodded. "Do it." Averell blew into the whistle. Renee covered her ears. "God, I hate that sound," she muttered.  
Averell ignored his wife. "You there, in the pit, do you have a clear view of the stage?"  
"Yes, sir."  
"Remember," Averell cleared his throat. "When the order comes, shoot. Shoot to kill."  
"But how will I know?" Cried the boy in the pit.  
"You will know." Renee said, and was surprised at how small her voice seemed.  
"Excuse me," Firmin stepped forward. "Are you sure this will work, that Miss Daae will sing?"  
"Trust me." Renee smirked. "I know."  
"Alright." Andre seemed pale and frightened. "Our fate lies in your hands."  
"Are the doors secure?" Averell shouted.  
"Secure!"  
"Secure!"  
"This one's secure!" They heard shouts from the men at the doors.  
"Ha!" They heard a shout from above. Renee froze, the blood boiling in her veins. "I'm here—The Phantom of the Opera.. I'm here, the Phantom of the Opera…"  
"What?" Firmin shouted, his face a ghastly shade of white.  
A gunshot sounded.  
"You fool!" Renee shrieked. "Only shoot when you get the order!"  
"But.." the poor boy seemed panicked.  
"No buts." There. There was the voice again, the voice of the invisible Phantom that seemed to control them all. "For once, Miss Renee is right. I hate to cut our fun short, but the joke is wearing thin.. let my audience in, let my opera begin!" The voice seemed to echo across decades, millennia, eternity. Then it was gone.

_"Here the sire may serve the dam, here the master takes his meat! Here the sacrificial lam butters__one despairing bleat!" _The chorus sang. For once, they sounded perfect. Erik smiled lightly to himself in his place in the rafters.  
_"Poor young maiden! For the thrill on__your tongue of stolen sweets __you will have to pay the bill -tangled in the winding sheets! __Serve the meal and serve the__maid! Serve the master so that, __when tables, plans and maids are laid, Don Juan triumphs once again!"_ Carlotta sang. Erik felt like covering his ears, but refrained from doing so.  
_"Passarino, faithful friend, once again recite the plan!" Piangi_ sang. At least he was getting the notes right, Erik thought wryly to himself.  
_"__Your young guest believ__es I'm you I,the master, you, the man!__"_ The chorus boy playing Passarino sang.  
_"__When you met you wore my cloak, with my scarf you hid your face. __She believes she dines with me, in her master's borrowed place! __Furtively, we'll scoff and quaff, stealing what, in__truth, is mine. When it's late and modesty starts to mellow, with the wine!"_ Ah, Don Juan's triumphant plan, Erik thought.  
_"You come home! I use __your voice slam the door like crack of__doom!"  
"Poor thing hasn't got a chance!"  
"H__ere's my hat, my cloak and sword. Conquest is assured, if I__do not forget myself and laugh.."_  
And there she was, there was Christine, looking beautiful, nearly like an angel.  
"No thoughts within her head, but thoughts of joy! No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!" Christine sang, her voice crystal clear and beautiful, filling the opera house.  
A look of worry crossed over Erik's face as he prepared himself for his descent to the stage.

_"__You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, __in pursuit of that wish, __which till now has been silent, __silent ..."_ Erik sang from behind Christine. She started slightly as she recognized the voice of her Angel, but continued to play Aminta.  
"_I have brought you, that our__passions may fuse and merge -__in your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses, completely succumbed to me -__now you are here with__me: no second thoughts, __you've decided, decided .."  
_Erik circled around Christine. "_Past the point of no__return - no backward glances: __the games we've played till now are at an end ...__Past all thought of "if" and "when" no use resisting: __abandon thought, and let the dream descend ...What raging fire shall flood the soul? __What rich desire unlock its__door?"  
_Erik paused slightly. Renee would probably give the command to fire as soon as the song ended, but Erik wouldn't let himself be caugh. "_What sweet seduction lies before us ... ? Past the point of no return, the final threshold -what warm, unspoken secrets will we__learn? __Beyond the point of no return__…" _He let the final sentence fade off.

_"You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, __to that moment where speech disappears into silence, __silence ...I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why..In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenceless and silent - and now I am here with you: __no second thoughts, I've decided, decided ..."  
_Christine sounded slightly nervous, though she grew more confident as the song went on. "_Past the point of no return - no going back now: __our passion-play has now, at last, begun ..."  
_She was now madly thinking of an idea how to fool Renee into letting Erik go, and nearly missed the next note.  
"_Past all thought of right and wrong one final question: how long should we two wait, before we're one ... ? When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst into bloom? __When will the flames, at last, consume us ... ?"  
_Erik crossed over to her and took her hands into his. Their voices rose and melded into one, the harmony seeming nearly unearthly.  
_"Past the point of no return, the final threshold -the bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn ...__We've passed the point of no return ..."_  
The last note rang out to a silent hall. Then Erik grasped Christine's hands tightly in his.  
"_Say you'll share with me__one love, one lifetime ..." _He continued by himself. Christine was watching her carefully, her large eyes full of fear of what was about to happen.  
"_Lead me, save me from my__solitude ..." _A single tear dripped down Christine's cheek. Erik took his hand from hers and wiped it away, softly, tenderly.  
"_Say you want me with you, here beside you ..."_ Christine was growing more and more panicked by the second. The song would end in a moment. Erik would be shot. The curtain would go down. "_Anywhere you go let me go too -__Christine,"_ That wasn't the character's name, but at that point Erik really didn't care.  
Christine gulped slightly, then wrung her hands nervously.  
Erik continued, seemingly oblivious to his looming doom, "T_hat's all I ask of-"_  
Christine looked into Erik's eyes, then out at the audience. She knew he would die if she let the song end without bringing him to safety. She needed a diversion.  
Her eyes fell on the smooth porcelain mask, and she moved her hand up to his face.  
"I'm sorry," she whispered, and ripped the mask from his face, unleashing a chain of events that would set her entire world in motion.

**I'm sorry for any screw-ups in this chapter, message me or review with the problems and I'll change them.  
Anyways, I'm sorry for the delay. I had it ready a few days ago, but my power decided to go out, courtesy to Hurricane Isaac. (Gee, thanks.) Well. I hope y'all liked the chapter!  
See you next time!  
Panda  
(please review! Reviews get a blaze on my "Phantom" candle! It's amazing, if I may say so myself.) **


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